Fate or Circumstance
by TheMarginalthinker
Summary: Vlad had always been at odds with the belief that Fate controlled everything, or destiny had anything to do with the course of one's life. What power in the universe had that absolute power as to write out the entire existence of a person, to decide what they did or who they met at any given moment, or that things were just, 'meant to happen'


Of all the time perisods the silver hiared vampire had lived through; victorian, Edwardian, when he'd been in England, the roaring twenties, hell, even of the many War years, this era was perhaps the most hated one.

To noisy, to noesy, to interconnected. Far to many distractions and not nearly enough of the common "Good Person" any more. ( not that Vlad cared particularly for that kind of person anyway, but it would have been nice to know there was still some sense of general goodness in people.) Crimes were still commited-as usual he supposed-, but all the reports, to him anyway, just seemed like they were all so much more _violent_. More and more countries threatening to destroy each other in total war, and polititians who would no doubt be better suited behind the desk of a major corporation then running (or ruining) the lives of millions. No, for Vladimir Masters the Third, the 2000's were not looking to be a good one hundred years to have to suffer through.

The old fang made his way down the near-empty streets of Chicago in the surpirisingly frigid weather of January of the New Year, glancing up every now and again to make sure there was no one about. Not that he minded people, persay, but more often then not found that the less people outside to hear anyone scream the less his nearves were on end. Vlad never did enjoy that feeling, of the hairs on the back of one's neck rise with the sensation of being watched when one was commiting an act that to any human would be considered quite hanious, though he knew some vamps who actually enjoyed it. What was the phrase these people had taken to calling the feeling, be they young vampire or human? Yolo, or some such nonsense. The vampire snorted out loud at the thought, pulling his navy and red striped scarf away from his mouth and nose and tucking it under his chin to better scent the air. You only live once, huh? A vampire should know better, he himself not being even one of the oldest out there, and still living more lives then any human could dream of. Yolo indeed...

Blinking and coming seamlessly out of his thoughts as he came to a (thankfully) dead intersection, Vlad crossed without waiting for the lights or the walk signal. No one was about to see him, and the cameras placed semi-descreetly upon the street signs wouldn't capture anything but the cold air of the winter night. Seems humans were right on a few acounts with the traditional vampire mythology.

Humph. Vlad burrowed further into the fluffy inside of the heavy flannel winter coat when a smooth wind picked up, flowing like a hypothermic river down the wind tunnle of the empty road. Too bad other myths about vampires didn't have the decency to be true. What he wouldn't give to be able to disregard the cold...but, Vlad supposed that even if he could, he wouldn't be able to show it in public, not if he didn't want to raise susspicians. A person without a coat on walking around in the middle of the night in January would at the very best raise eyebrows. At the worst...well...lets just say, if someone walks up to you raving about the many uses of stakes pure iron, they aren't always crazy. He'd lost some of his few friends to...

Vlad shook his head. It didn't matter now, he supposed. What happened happened, and there was no two ways about it.

Besides, this dead-of-winter night was a beautiful crystal clear; chancing a glance up, he could even make out a few of the brighter stars shining doggedly down through the city glare, a rarity when one lived in downtown Chicago and the light polution interfeared most nights. It was a nice night. Another good thing about winter Vlad found he actually liked was that between the snow and cold air, the normally heavy and lingering scents and sounds of the city bacame muted somewhat, bringing smaller smells and tidbits of noise one didn't notice into a sharper focus. Like the smell of evergreens in the park about ten blocks away, or the car coming down the road from behind him that, judging by the sound, would pass within a minute or two. Or the salty-sweet irony scent of fresh blood on icey pavement acompanied by rangey shouts and lewd cat-calls-

Vlad stiffened. Back straight, hands clenching up from laying limp head snapping around to his left, eyeing the other side of the street. Yes, with parties, especially the ones welcoming in the new year, all mannor of scents were forthcoming. Alcohol and sweat and all kinds of heart-stopping junk food, but not that smell...never that tangy meaty smell...The shouting grew louder, and oh, the insults. He knew many people, human teenagers especially, loved their course language, but never had it been spewed so abundantly infront of him. And at someone, as well it apeared.

Stepping a bit back on instict so that he was more or less hidden in the shadows with the help of his black coat, Vlad observed the screaming party as they all came into the neon orange light of one of the few streetlights.

Upon retrospect, Vlad would never be able to say why exactly had had stopped that night. Normaly he'd just look away and continue walking; it wasn't his business to evesdrop nor like him to do so anyway, but this night he did. And wondered if he had right to regret it.

There looked to be six figures or so, an even number or males and femals alike, if the phermones forgging the crisp air told true. Vlad wrinkled his nose as it assaulted his olfactory sense. They were intoxicated, every one of them-not that he was surprised. At least they looked to be twenty years of age or so, therefore they could _ possibly_ be drinking legally. But, most of this information was filed away somewhere else in Vlad's mind, a footnote in the whole chapter dedicated to this situation.

For although there were six teens, there apeared to be one among them who was the lone wolf; the outcast in the pack, being mocked visiously.

Of the remaining five humans, it seemed to Vlad the ringleader doing most of the jeering was a large boy, blond with washed out powder-blue eyes. He would have been quite handsom, had he not been shouting such curses and stinking of whisky and cheap beer. To his either side of him, paractically hanging off his arms at that, were two equally pretty girls; one of a definite nordic decent, with ashy-blond hair and light eyes-slightly built,- and one of a healthy Latina heritage with olive skin and flowing silky black locks. Just behind the two of them stood a smirking male; just about as tall as the other, but apearing to have less bulk; built lighter. In the back of his mind, Vlad was reminded, a small amout of the paintings of anchient samuria weilding katanas he'd seen in musems. However, like the blond boy, his ethnic charm, what little he may or may not have had, was smothered by the sneer the slid across his face, and that was were the trouble started.

The fifth figure, -the one the ractious group were taunting so mercilessly- had been, by this point shoved down by the blond one, landing with a wet squelch in a puddle of melted snow on the side of the road , most definitaly soaking him to the bone. The actions of these youthes made the vampire scowl, but he slunk a bit further back in the dark. If he showed himself, they might react badly. They were already drunk off their heads...

Blinking as the figure groaned and attempted to get up, Vlad saw for the first time the face of the tormented. A boy, or...so Vlad thought...It was honestly hard to say in the harsh false-light of the lamp, much to Vlad's embarassment. Well, even if they were not, they looked mostly male, so Vlad would reffer to him as such until evidence came into play that he was not.

The boy was so...small. It was the only word that seemed to fit. Well, perhaps not; shorter but thin would be better words. Good gracious, was this child any older then sixteen? He must have been; why else would he be consorting with this randy croud? Accenting the slightness of the boy was the mop of dark hair on his head; the kind that would no doubt always be unkempt and unruly no matter what brush or comb one used, but now it was just plain ragged and messy, not to mention half soaked with the filthy slush from the road. Vlad didn't get a good look at the youth's face; it had been either turned away from him or hidden under the inky feathers of hair.

Settling back into his own mind for a moment, Vlad let the portrait of the boy paint itself on his mind's canvas in full. Pushing aside the bullies and harsh treatment, the person strugling to stay balanced on his own unsteady two legs and now yeling back more swears at the group in the middle of the wet road before him was...cute. From an objective point of veiw that is to say, Vlad thought quickly. From the little Vlad could make of him, it was in a very boy-next-door sort of way that most girls would find "adorable' and the "we are the perfect couple" type. Adding the voice of the younger male to his painting, the old fang felt an involentary smile sort of sneak without his consent over his face. Although it was hoarse, and a bit slurred with intoxication, the voice was quite pretty, one had to admit. Perhaps it WAS a female; the pitch was high enough to be an alto singer, but in any case, Vlad found himself pausing to admire how even impared the voice flowed easily, like cystal water over weathered river stones. Light, but with undertones of warning, showing without even needing words that this person would make a loyal to the death friend, or a hunt you to the ends of the earth enemy. Such conviction and emotion potrayed with so little...

Vladimir shook his head then. Not that Vlad would ever act on such fancies, the old hopless romantic reminded himself. It wasn't that he was bigotted against homosexuals-hells bells, even HE had bedded a male or two in his long life. ( when one lived as long as vampires do, one found one's veiws on social and moral boundaries against such things like sexuality blurring over time.) No, just not with a human. Never with a human. He would only end up hurting the both of them in the end. After all, humans tended to come with expiration dates...

A scream filled the air, short and for Vlad, far to loud, jerking him out of his thoughts quite efficiently. It was not a female's wailing though, but the sort of scream a dying horse would make. Gutteral and thick. Male.

It apeared the tall blond boy had been insulted by something the shorter black hair had shouted at him (Vlad hadn't really been listening; the conversations of mortals rarely interested him anymore, save if he had anything to gain from it.) and was coming to collect his revenge. The smaller boy, seeing the charging bull of the other coming towards him, must have recognized his words as foolishness and tried to retreat by stepping back, but slipped on the slick cold surface of the street falling onto his back rather vioently. Vlad watched as blondy just grabbed the other's coat front, hauled up the smaller form of his opponent- if one could call the fragile stick-figure of the raven hair that- and swung back in to a frightening right hook.

The fist connected with the face it was aimed at with a sickening smack. Before Vlad could even contemplate the what was happening right in front of him, a second hit was laded, then a third. The limp body of the smaller person dropped to the pavement in a heap when the blond let go, an amused sneer on his face.

Suddenly, Vlad felt...wrong. Just wrong. He shouldn't be here, the old fang thought to himself. He should move on or...or call the police or something. There were sure to be enough of them out, it was only three thirty in the morning on new years, but he didn't move. Something stopped him from reaching into his pocket and taking out the small silver cell he kept on him, or running accross the way to deal with the problem himself; he was more then sure these people were nothing more then bullies, and bullies are all cowards anyway. It was like someone had put cement shoes on him, or a great hand had reached down from heaven and held him captive in its grip. All he could make himself do was watch from his shadowed corner as the horrible events played out.

Vlad honestly expected the worst. He expected the taller one to beat the other into a bloody pulp on the pavement, but it seemed that after a few more hard kicks to the black haired boy he grew bored, and called to his friends to move on as the smaller boy had 'learned his lesson,' or some such nonsense. Truth be told, Vlad was more then a little releived. Now he could make sure the individual was alright, go home, and have a hot cup of A positive, while he was at it. The spilled blood scent all around him from the unmoving figure on the ground wasn't helping him with his ah, 'condition'. It was of course then, and only then, that Vlad rembered the boy was still lying in the _middle of the road_. Quikly glancing about to see if the attackers really were gone, Vlad snapped out of whatever stillness had come over him and slowely started towards the male.

Vlad had always been at odds with the beleif that Fate controlled everything, or destiny had anything to do with the course of one's life. What power in the universe had that absolute power as to write out the entire existance of a person, to deside what they did or who they met at any given moment, or that things were just, 'meant to happen?' No, Vladimir Masters solidly beleived that what happened in life was happenstance, chance, or consiquenses to the actions put forward by people. No great big 'greater scheme' laid out by a force a human couldn't possibly understand the magnitude of. It was just life.

After that bitterly cold morning in early January, Vlad would never be able to make the argument against Fate quite so assuredly.

He honestly didn't see it coming. He didn't. Then again, the silver haired vampire would think in the future, no one ever does.

The car came seemingly without a warning. Vlad...he wasn't sure when the black s.u.v. (or course) had goten so near-it had been a mile away, surely- but HE cirtainly wasn't paying enough attention to gather his thoughts enough to shout to the boy lying in the snow, nor to get his legs to move fast enough in enough time to dart forward and drag the boy away. He was a bystander. It was an incident. There was one thing that twisted his gut, though; the child had accually begun to move. Started to stir in place on the wet ground and would have probobly managed to get up with Vlad intened assistance, had whatever decided to send a car his way not interfeared.

Not ten feet. Vlad was taking perhaps his third step to help when headlights, two beams of glowing death come racing down the way. What little human instinct there was within the old vampire must have been mighty sick to want the silver haired gentleman to freeze up then, just ten meger feet away. God in heaven, why couldn't he and his kind have been blessed with the myth of super speed? A moment was all it took. A shivering and far more sober then previously noted boy ( the same space in the back of Vlad's mind that remained anilytical took in the slightly too- square-jaw-line- to-be-female and confirmed him a boy) had gotten unsteadily to his knees, a black eye already swelling and a busted lip trickling red when, to him, what must have seemed the light greeting the deceased desended upon him with enough force to smash right though a solid brick wall. More then enough to hit the frail body of a human being with a few dull _cracks_, and push the life of the boy into that same light.

Vlad stood. Just...just stood there, with a sort of..sickly...comical expresion on his face. His eyes were wide; staring, but seeing naught but the broken figure smashed into the earth before him. His mouth had drawn itself up into the _oohhh..._ sort of position, lips making a circle.

He was never sure when he had moved, Vlad, but it seemed like a blink, and he was there; kneeling beside the body, cradeling the bloody black haired head in his hands. It was so light the head of this boy. Vlad looked about it, scrutenized it trying to see if the dammage wasn't- if he could be saved or-...No. It couldn't be. The boy...he was still breathing! THe mouth of the boy was twitching open and closed, a bit like a fish, but he was drawing breaths! Vlad felt...inexplicably happy, for whatever reason. Probobly the natural reaction from seeing a traumatic event play out infront of him and then receiving such opposite news in the form of a rising an falling chest. He would live! Vlad would call the E. and the boy would be taken to a hospitol and recover and- the boy's head flopped to the right then, and Vlad felt his moment of pleasure gone, like the cold wind of the night had ripped it far to suddenly from his undying body; the temperature of the slush seeping into his black, too-nice-to-really-be-jeans was nothing in comparison to the absolute dead-cold the wound on the side of the boy's head left him with.

The left side of the child's head was...in a word, _caved. _ Thankfuly, all Vlad could really see was broken tissue and skin, some white bo-_don't think! _ and plenty of blood; from the few seconds he had been holding the child his hands had already become slick with it. The red liquid, so much a part of his daily life for the past three centuries, now sickened him. _ It wasn't the boy's time. Not his time. _ Vlad found himself repeating the phrase over and over inside his head, like the silly mantra would do anything to change how absolute the reality was. Even when the driver, a boy or a girl-Vlad didn't know or care either way- came over and started screaming and crying at what they had just done, Vlad was still holding the dying stranger. The beautiful, blood drenched human.

Humans, Vlad found himself musing sardonicly, looking into the red-snow spattered face of the youth he did not know from Adam, yet felt strangly more attatched to then any of his past relations, good or bad. So soft, so fragile...humans break so easily. Vampires, well, they weren't made of solid steele but, it would certainly take a bit more then a car to-

An idea flashed through the silver haired vamp's mind then. A hidious, wonderful, terrifying idea streaked like silent lightning through the head of one Vladimir Masters the Third, making him both almost physicaly recoil in digust that his damned mind would even think of something so awful, and at the same time brought forth a macabre little voice who whispered of a proverbial eternity without lonesomeness. A porceline partner who wouldn't shatter when dropped...

Vlad's face gave away none of the abject revulsion at the very thought with practiced ease, but perhaps what turned his insides worse, was the fact that somewhere in his head, he was _accually considering it._

Vlad...was never quite certain what he thought of the vampire race. Yes, he was one, so naturaly, he supported his own kind, but from a personal perspective it was much harder to say. Make no mistake, he had realized long ago a vampire's life (at least when young) was more often then anyone would wish, a struggle with one's self identity- most of the time taking place over the first thirty to fifty years as a new species. The massive change in one's life in such a fachion left psycological scars that never truely faded; they were more or less just glossed over in order to concentrate on the now. So, when Vlad was at odds with the concept of turning this boy- this random stranger he'd never known or seen before- into one of Night's children, he really _was_ having an internal screaming match with himself.

On the one hand- _ He is a child! Can't be ANY older then twenty, really. What right do I have to decide this boy's future; and what a furture it will be for him! Why, he'll be downright horrified of not only me but himself! I couldn't do that. No. Even my own turning had been willing. _ Yet, on the complete opposite hand-the one, much to Vlad's growing fearfulness, which was getting much stronger -_ But what life will he have ahead of him if you allow him to STAY like this? If-note, IF- he survives the next five minutes for the paramedics to get here let alone last the night, what could the only outcomes be? Either death of a coma, a seizure, blood loss and organ failure later on, or perhaps you wish to see him staring off into nothing and drooling, eh? A vegitable yes, but a HUMAN vegitable. _

The old one ground his teeth in utter frustration at not only the warring sides of himself but at the situation in general.

_I didn't ask for this. I never wanted-_

His inner voice was cut off sudenly by a harsh convulsion from the body beneath him, the boy shuddering and gasping like a fish out of water. Vlad found himself grasping the child tighter, catching himself before he embarresed himself by wispering soft words of comfort to the dying person. It struck Vlad then-all sides of himself- that he needed to make the desion. Now. He had no more time to _ think,_ only to _act._ Oh glory, he had lived nearly three and a half HUNDRED years, and _now_ was when he had no time? It wasn't just about Vlad anymore, and what _he_ wanted_,_ it was about this boy and what Vlad was going to do for _ him._

Nobody wants to die. Not like this. Even if the stranger had no cognitive recognition of what was going on around him- what had happened to him, Vlad at least, didn't want this boy to leave the earthly plane of existance like a peice of raveged raodkill, carelessly tossed aside. There was- it- there was just to much to this person; Vlad could tell. So much more yet to be achieved though this mind and body, and Vlad would be a fool to not recognize that- to halt such progression before it had even had a chance to move forward.

Would he remember this bloody night, the boy? Probobly not. Turnings were highly disorienting when the person wasn't dying; add to that the fact the boy had been harassed, beaten and subsiquently hit by a car, there was a good chance the boy would loose two, possibly three days worth of time. He would also need someone there to...to explain and be there for him when he inevitably broke down...or blew up; it depended on his disposition, honestly. The old vampire was certainly not looking forward to it, at all. He recalled the first few nights he had spent indoors with his Sire and couldn't stop the grimance from gracing his features. He and his Sire had...never really hit it off so to say. They were just different kinds of people. Sure, they tolerated one another for the required year they had been with the other, but to say there had ever been a time Vlad had enjoyed the presence of the elder would be a dirty lie. Vlad...hoped it wouldn't have to be like that between he and the boy. It was true, Vlad was somewhat lonesome, and he had found himself somehow infatuated with the spitfire stranger; the hazy blue eyes, the spindly twitching body, the ever-shallower breaths. To see such a life wasted would be cruel, but to sit and do nothing as the light drained from those feirce icey blue eyes...

Vlad pushed such depressing thoughts aside for now. He knew now what must be done, and for better of for worse, there would at least be one life spared tonight.

It had to be descrete. No witnesses, and no one to hold evidence. Estimating the aproximate time he had left before it would be useless, Vlad gave himself about a minute; sixty seconds to acomplish his self-appointed quest for morality.

Abandoning his blood and water soaked coat, the vamp folded it as to provide a better pillow, and as gently as he could, laid the head of the boy he had previously been clutching onto the soft, albeigt wet surface. Rising with more-then-human grace, he trotted over to the disdraught driver leaning against the side of the black vehichle, sobbing into the back of a gloved hand.

Now that he was up close and paying attention, Vlad could amke out the features of the person responsible for the soon-to-be untimely demise of the boy still lying in the street.

She was very pretty, even with the dark smeared lines of hastely whiped-at mascara dribbling down her cheecks with the tears practicaly pouring out her voilet-contac covered eyes, and sniffling into the same glove. Her black died hair-much the same color of the boy's, but with that duller, come-from-a-bottle-sheen-was in utter disaray with some clumps mussed into semi-dreadlocks. There was faint line of purple-blue, sjut above her right eyebrow, where a nasty bruise was begining to raise it's ugly head, but all this information was categorized and filed away like a machine; Vlad's mind not even giving pause to consider it at length, as it had the boy. There was no time to waste on such trivial bits of information. He only had fifty-three seconds left.

"Young lady!" She jumped at the voice so close to her; even Vlad inwardly winced at the tone of his rather abrupt bark, but made not outward show of it as he continued.

"Have you a cellulare phone with you?"

She shuffled while frantically nodding a yes, apearing to not quite be ready for words.

"Good. Have you notified the paramedics yet?"

She seemed to find her voice this time, even if it was still squeacky and sounding more like chocking sounds then words, but Vlad managed to understand:

"Y-ye-hic-yers-suh-sur-sir. I di-hur-did." through all the crying and gulps of air. Unable to stop the glance over the man's shoulder at the grisly scene beyond it, Vlad accually felt himself feeling sorry for the girl when she imidiatly tore her gaze away again and started really sobbing, clutching her hair-buriying her face into her arms, muttering about jail and other such things. It didn't bother Vlad. In reality, it helped his situation. The more she was out of it, the less she would notice. _Fourty-five seconds left, Vladimir. Best make this little exchange quick. _ Vlad gave a small involentary nod to himself. Reaching out to grasp the arm of the young lady, he took on an air of adult authority and consolation. He needed her to listen.

"That's good. But right now my dear, you're not doing anyone any good standing out here in the cold. For this very moment, the best you can do is go back in your car and keep yourself warm." He gave an incouraging little smile "Also, if you wouldn't mind, I would greatly aprechiate it if you would keep a lookout for the ambulances; they should come from that direction." Vlad made a vauge gesture down the road-facing the opposite of where Vlad would...well. Anything to keep wandering eyes from looking back and seeing that which no one outside of the two participants should ever be privy to. He made his voice solem then, trying to convey the true gravity to the lady. "I shall return to...him, and uh...see if I can staunch the bleeding any, and if need be, just...make sure he's not alone."

In a sort of trance-like state, staring and muttering, the girl climbed back into her car, eyes feverishly locked onto one point somewhere down the long road ahead of them, probobly looking out for the E.M.T.s. Vlad took a long breath, preparing fo the next thirty-nine seconds, a scowl working its way onto his face.

One last time, he looked at the boy and the notion of whether or not this was the right thing to do graced his suddenly weary mind. In all reality, it wasn't just the boy's life he'd be changing tonight, no. There were the agreived family and friends to acount for, the invariably nasty business of fooling the undertakers and hospitol people within the next few days, and the simple (if only) task of getting the boy registered within the Vampire community as a legitimate Dependant and Vlad as a legitimate Sire. Ugh, Vlad DID _so hate_ all the blasted paper work involved. He wondered idaly when exactly vampire society had become so beuracratic? It mattered not. All that would be seen to soon enough. He still had the accual turning to attend to. This time, the grimance marring his features as he made himself move towards the unmoving figure was one of near-pure self hate. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to just not do it, yet at the same time was congradulating him on making the right desision and saving a life.

_I'm not a hero-none of my kind is. We don't save people, we condemn them._

A quiet cough, far louder then a gun shot in Vlad's ears, rung through the relitive peace and quiet. Now, he had to act _now._ Kneeling beside the boy, Vlad alowed his mind to drif, go blank, wander without destination. His body knew what to do without his mind's interfearence, so he let it.

Time passed, unnoticed. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours since Vlad started his grim task; the old fang didn't know. All he was aware of was the sweetness on his tounge, and the body growing colder and imobile under him.

Lucky for Vlad, the boy finaly lay still as the red and white lights and wailing sirens of the ambualnces reached the peak of the hill behind him.

Somewhere in his mind, an errant thought ran past, shouting something he barely caught, but left him feelig quite meditative all the same;

_This century might not be a good one, but if anything, it WILL be interesting..._


End file.
